Sara
by Traumaddict
Summary: A trilogy of drabbles regarding Team Arrow's men coping with the death of one of their own. [Implied Olicity] [Team Fic]
1. Oliver

Sara

The Foundry was a covert location, purposing Team Arrow (although, they weren't called that) with a place to carry out their espionage and all round vigilante business. It was not, no matter what angle one might take, a covert location, purposing one Miss Felicity Smoak and one Mr Roy Harper to marathon popular TV series'.

He was about to point out as such, angry face fitted over his features, when Felicity started to _laugh_— the noise spread through the dark spaces in his surroundings, filling out the hollow spaces that Sara had left behind. She hadn't laughed like that since before Sara's death. Hell, since before their disastrous date.

He paused and closed his eyes, noticing offhandedly that Diggle was just as startled.

For a moment, he could almost see both blondes, side-by-side, trapped in that friendly banter that was as integral to their friendship as their mutual passion for ice cream. But, the memory ghosted away as soon as it came and instead of the woman who knew his every shard, the boy whom would one day become his brother accompanied his spectacled love. Roy didn't laugh, but his grin stole the age and despair from his features, making him seem, for the first time since Thea had left, his twenty years.

And for that moment, as Felicity tinkered like tiny bells and Roy smiled, Oliver felt Sara beam at them from her Heaven for the first time.

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><p><em>I know I should be writing out the third part to The Blood on Your Hands series, but I found these in a folder I tried neglecting. Admittedly, not my best work but they are something that helped me find solace over losing Sara (next to Felicity, she was my favourite character). Nonetheless, I hoped one enjoyed reading these about as much as I enjoyed writing them.<em>

_If all goes well, I'll consider another drabble trilogy but from Felicity's, Laurel's and Nyssa's perspectives._


	2. John

Sara

With pursed lips, John worked studiously at Felicity's workstation.

He remembered the way Sara's blood-clotted curls had looked against their steel medical bay; her oceanic eyes sealed shut; the stillness in her face and body; her mind muted forever. Wheezing out instructions to Oliver and Roy, he noticed, at last, his quaking hands (he would go home later that night when Felicity was safe, but that tremble still existed in his fingers, and Lyla would bring him to her bosom because she _understood_ and their daughter, _their_ Sara, would not suffer like they have).

It took an hour for his partners to locate and collect their team's only splotch of light. She had been snatched for ransom, not because of her involvement with Oliver Queen, but for her budding friendship with Ray Palmer. Oliver descended the stairwell with Roy at his side and Felicity tucked in his arms. His eyes were rimmed red and were haunted by the same grim resolution he had made the night once Sara left their lives and another walked in. The boy's features were hooded, red mask hanging around his neck. He never took his eyes off of Felicity until Oliver propped her up on the medical bay.

The pair parted for John as he blundered through, wrapping his wide arms around her smaller frame.

She clutched his shirt and sobbed, but no tears came, having dried up weeks ago on visits to the cemetery in the middle of the night. His hands ran through her straight hair, clotted with blood, and tried to divide the parallels. It would do no good, he knew. Felicity was like spun gold, shimmering with an enthusiasm that absorbed their combined darkness. Sara, she had thrived in the darkness, learnt its language, and had walked out bruised and battered but smiling.

It did neither justice for comparing them, John recognised, but the agony of losing the one who knew their darkness had struck a chord for him – for all of them. So, if Team Arrow had lost the one whose light shielded them from their darkness as well, there would be nothing stopping them from turning into the monsters they were so close to becoming.

"I'm alright, John." Her breath shook against his cheek as she pressed her mouth to it. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

><p><em>Hopefully, you enjoyed John's take on Sara's death as well as I hope you enjoyed Oliver's!<em>


	3. Roy

Sara

Roy and Sara hadn't always seen eye-to-eye, but she was his mentor. He had respected her first, and slowly but surely, had grown to like her. So, he'd been just as devastated as everyone else when they'd found her in a still sprawl in the Foundry, her sister bawling at her side. Losing Thea had been hard, but he knew, at least, she was alive. Sara wasn't coming back to them.

He had clutched Felicity as she cried, heart aching for another family member lost. Her funeral had been worse, and he found his arms linked around the rambling blonde once more. She had always been their team's anchor, whether they knew it or not. Yet, the devastation that came to them far too often had never sunk its claws into her; it had resolutely steered clear of the rambling blonde. He had been thankful for that—their team needed a pillar.

Nonetheless, all good things do, eventually, come to an end. And losing Sara's charm had been it.

The young man sighed into Felicity's blonde curls and rubbed her shoulders. With Oliver's rapid downward spiral and Diggle's duties as a father hauling to the forefront of his life, the pair were practically attached to the hip. Besides, both needed to grieve and with those around them indefinitely distracted by their own lives, they had little options left. Regardless, it suited them well. Friendship bloomed in the most unlikeliest of places, and in a bunker with low light, the pair strived the best they could—their only real witness, a forgotten, potted fern from a time that was eons ago.

* * *

><p><em>So, that concludes this trilogy! I hope these drabbles were a worthy read. Thank you!<em>


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